Tips to survive the nasty cold that's going around

And now, as a public service, “How To Survive this Horrible Head Cold That’s Going Around Right Now.” (How you people made it this long without me around, I’ll never know.)

1) For starters, you’ll know you have this horrible head cold by noting the following symptoms: Headache, sore throat, aches, pains,coughing, enough snot to use as mortar to build a three-bedroom brick ranch house (with unattached garage), watery eyes.

2) As far as treatment options go, I’ve been living and dying (slowly) by following a very strict medical regimen. It goes something like this: Sudafed; Evan Williams. I think for clarity’s sake, each item deserves it’s own space.

3) Sudafed: The good stuff. The behind-the-counter, show-your-driver’s licence, pretend-you’re-Walter White stuff. This batch works. Clears you out and gives you that level-headed, crystal-methy feeling. True story: NHL players used to pop these things like candy to get a rush before they hit the ice. Which coincides nicely with my personal motto, “If it’s good enough for Jari Kurri, it’s good enough for me.”

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4) Evan Williams Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey: Again, this is purely medicinal. I’ve been taking 100ml (well, sometimes 150ml) each evening after the kids go to sleep. And by the way, I’m a bourbon snob, but this inexpensive stuff is actually pretty good. Drop an ice cube in it, wait five minutes, and it is AOK. But again: Purely medicinal. Purely. And only after the children are asleep. Speaking of the children ...

5) This cold is not ageist. My poor, sweet, darling son is battling the same symptoms, and due to his status as a three-year-old, he cannot take my medical products. Poor, poor thing.

6) Make sure you inform your spouse how horrible this cold is at every opportunity. This is not a “complaining, oh poor me,” situation, not by a longshot. You want to do this out of love, honor and respect. You want your not-yet-afflicted spouse to know how terrible this cold is. It serves as a warning to them, so if they should be struck down by this particularly virulent strain of horror, they’ll be prepared. IMPORTANT NOTE: By doing this, you’re opening yourself up for your spouse to say the following: “Get a grip, idiot. Your three-year-old son is handling this cold better than you, and he can’t even take Sudafed. Man up already. And take out the garbage. And the bourbon? Again? ... What did you just say? ... Medicinal? Medicinal my (bleep).”

7) Continue life as normal: Oh yes,. This is the big one right here. You will feel like a zombie, and wish someone would take you out like a zombie, but really, push comes to shove, you’ll be compelled to carry on. There’s no fever involved, so despite feeling like an old sock left out in the cold rain in the streets of Beijing with someone pouring fish guts all over you from 30 feet high out of a Big Gulp cup, you’ll still shower and get dressed and go about your life. Stupid Puritan work ethic. Even us lazy types are infected with it. I wish I was French. This would be a week off on the couch.

8) If you make it to the couch, and if you have access to Showtime, “Oliver Stone’s Untold History of the United States” is a scream. It’s like having Stone as a whacked-out 10th grade history professor. The “facts” presented may be cloudy, but boy oh boy, is it entertaining*. (*Full disclosure: I’ve been watching it along with the Evan Williams. It may add to the “entertaining” review.)

9) Lemonade, orange juice, and any citrus drink goes down the throat and feels like an elixir. Drinking plain water, however, is torture. Why is that? I need to Google this … one second … ah … apparently is has something to do with the mortar-like snot taking over my body. Good to know. Pass it on.

And the last bit of treatment advice I have is an oldie but a goodie ...

10) Halls Mentho-Lyptus: It may taste like the bottom of your grandmother’s purse, but they really do help. They also keep vampires at bay, and if you’re single, members of the opposite sex. After all, you do smell like the bottom of your grandmother’s purse. Told you that already.